


a marriage of special purpose.

by wolvesandgirls



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Eloping, F/M, Fluff, Marriage, a touch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 17:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22299700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolvesandgirls/pseuds/wolvesandgirls
Summary: "Gleb’s heart races in his chest, his shoes squelching on the stones as they come to the old courthouse, arch and stone and glowing in the mist like something from a dream. Gleb doesn’t quite want to wake up."Originally posted to tumblr as part of the Made Up Fic Title prompt!
Relationships: Anya | Anastasia Romanov/Gleb Vaganov
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	a marriage of special purpose.

The rain settles in a mist around Paris, and his hand almost slips out of Anya’s as she leads them hurriedly through the cobblestone streets, a pair of worn heels clutched close to her chest. Gleb’s heart races in his chest, his shoes squelching on the stones as they come to the old courthouse, arch and stone and glowing in the mist like something from a dream. Gleb doesn’t quite want to wake up.

Anya’s feet are quick and hurried on the stairs, her boots not slipping once in the rain; practised, without patience. She slips out of them as she raps on the door, and Gleb wants to reach out, to brush the drops of water from her skin, to serve his endless repentance. She smiles at him as she slips into the heels, reaching for his cheek instead.

“Gleb, I-”

The door swings open, interrupting her. “Mademoiselle?” an elderly woman asks, looking at the dripping couple with a worried look, ushering them indoors.

“We’d like to elope,” Anya says surely, slipping out of her coat as the door is shut behind them, the courthouse employee stuttering into a confused smile. Anya’s coat is hung by the door, above her soaked boots, and Gleb slowly slips out of his own coat, following Anya’s lead. Again. _Always_. “Where do we need to go?”

The clipped, confident tones should worry him, _had_ worried him before he was swept into her eyes by them, but it’s difficult to empathize with his past self as the old woman directs them to where they need to go and Anya’s hand is in his again. It was almost difficult to imagine he was in Paris about to elope with Anya, had spent the morning with her as she combed her hair up into braids, had insisted she wore a white dress as she laughed and kissed the blush from his cheeks.

“Do you think Dmitry found the letter?” she asks, as they wait for someone to be roused from somewhere and other details Gleb couldn’t focus on in the present moment. Anya is… beautiful, he _always_ thinks, but _now_. Her hair braided up, white cotton and lace, the delicate embroidery around the collar of the simple dress. Things he typically discounted as dreams.

He swallows around the burn in his throat, “Anya, it doesn’t- you don’t-” he begins. Guilt simmers in his belly as Anya looks across from him, frowning slightly.

He tucks a piece of damp hair behind Anya’s ear, lightly tracing the scar that curved down her temple. Scars. Memories. Reminders of who they were, of things lost and forgotten. Not the love stories that were whispered alongside wedding vows. He smiles, “You don’t have to do this.”

He is always waiting. Waiting for the moment as he dropped the gun, sobbing at her feet. At a railway station in Provence, after she had bobbed her hair and slipped on a bright green hat. Under a lamppost when his lips first tentatively brushed hers, _surely then_ , the moment would shatter. Anya would realise she should not love him, not the way he loved her.

Anya blinks, looking away quickly before meeting his gaze again, “Still?”

He pulls her hands to his lips, kissing the scars blooming from her palm, “Every day.”

Anya bites her lip, shaking her head as she steps into his embrace, “I wouldn’t have waited if I’d known.”

Gleb breathes in, ignoring his trembling hands as he smiles into her braids, “Well, lucky I said something before they chased me out of the country.”

Anya pulls away, meeting his grin with a soft glare. She leans up to kiss him, and Gleb pauses her with his thumb, a tiny thrill running down his spine as she smiled, _understood_. Instead, her fingers trail through his hair, “You’re a mess, Gleb.”

“I ran through the rain to get married,” he whispers, Anya smoothing the curls into something resembling tame, resembling polite, resembling gleefully and lovingly kept.

A cough behind them steals her attention, and she softens in Gleb’s arms as Dmitry waves towards them, a bottle of vodka under his arm. _Old fashioned_ , she had called Gleb that morning.

She turns back to him, “You don’t need to worry, Gleb.” He relaxes as Anya presses a kiss to the corner of his lips, “Not today.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to tumblr (last month? November?? who knows???) as part of the Made-Up Fic Title prompt, and I forgot to migrate it over!! Never thought I'd write a marriage fic, let alone a quickie elopement fic, but here we are!
> 
> Original post [here](https://wolves-girls.tumblr.com/post/189263174900/made-up-fic-title-prompt-a-marriage-of-special).
> 
> Kudos/Comments greatly appreciated. x


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